


What Prowl Wants

by Caius



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Office Sex, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 16:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2355332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caius/pseuds/Caius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Prowl has a Plan to seduce Springer, and Springer is not sure why he bothered. </p>
<p>Written for Prowlish as part of Project: Write Fic For People Who Support <a href="http://www.youcaring.com/pet-expenses/help-catilla-breathe/236156">Catilla's Surgery</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Prowl Wants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prowlish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/gifts).



"What is it _now_?" 

Springer burst into Prowl's office, scuffed and singed and, if Prowl judged correctly (and his margin for error with the new Wrecker leader was a worrisome 7.54%) in precisely the right mood to "let off some steam" with his commander. 

So to speak.

Prowl turned his head, just slightly away from his file cabinet he was bent over, pausing for effect in a manner that should be utterly infuriating -- but also give Springer an excellent view of his back and aft. "Just a second," he said, twitching his doors in irritation as though he had not just sent Springer an urgent summons. 

Springer _should_ be looking Prowl over. He must be, and from the high pitch of Springer's systems and the increase in heat in the office as soon as he'd entered, it shouldn't even matter very much if he liked what he saw. Prowl hid his smirk in a file drawer, raising his aft and making Springer wait. 

Springer exvented and Prowl could almost feel the steam rising up from him. Oh, yes, this was going to be fun. "You _called_ me here, Prowl! What _exactly_ is so urgent that I was to come report to _you_ instead of the washracks! Or debriefing my team!"

Debriefing, indeed, as though Prowl didn't know what the Wreckers got up to after any sort of scuffle. Or when there weren't enough scuffles to keep them occupied. "I'm sure your team can manage without you for an hour or two." Prowl said, turning around just enough to look at Springer for a moment or two -- in the optic, briefly, before looking pointedly down his body. "And you are neither injured nor in anything more than your usual state of unwash."

Springer growled. "I'm not going to stand here to be insulted. Get to the point!" He moved just a little bit closer. Perfect. Prowl just barely refrained from licking his lips -- it wouldn't do to be too obvious. 

Prowl shook his head. "No patience at all." Way more patience than his predecessor; Impactor would have been either out the door or inside Prowl's valve by now. But Springer was...difficult. Just a little bit more of a challenge. He pulled a few things out of the file drawer and turned around, leaning casually on the front edge of his own desk and looking Springer up and down. "Forms for you." He indicated the pads in his hand but didn't extend it out, making Springer come into his space.

Springer gave a long sigh and grabbed them. He turned one on and glared at the text with apparent comprehension. "This isn't a form."

"My mistake," Prowl said, his tone implying -- accurately -- that it was nothing of the sort. 

Springer looked at it closer -- "Why are you -- this is some sort of test, isn't it." He thrust the datapad back at Prowl, who failed to take it. "That's just sick!" He reached half-way around Prowl to toss the datapad violently on the desk. "It's not like you need to be able to -- _read_ \-- to be a Wrecker." He closed his mouth into a hard line and Prowl could just feel the anger radiating from him. "I know _you_ know Impactor couldn't and you never cared! That's not the first bit of slagging -- pornographic filth -- I've read from you, Prowl!"

Prowl smirked. "I wondered who was doing the reading." 

Springer pushed the rest of the datapads at Prowl's chest. "If there is nothing _else_?"

Prowl took the pads this time, sorting through them. "If you _insist_ \--" Prowl extended his hand, presenting one of the datapads. "This one _is_ the form. A report on your doings for the Prime himself."

Springer threw up his hands. "Just make something up. You always do." 

Prowl shook his head. "Springer, Springer, I don't know what you're insinuating." 

"And I don't know what game you're playing, Prowl--!" Springer raised his voice and loomed. "But I have better things to do today than play it!"

Prowl smirked, looking up at him seductively -- so close, so close. "And here I thought it was obvious enough -- even for you, Springer. It was obvious enough for Impactor."

"You --!" Springer roared, and he pulled his hands back, clenched into fists. 

Prowl licked his lips. Subtlety was lost on Springer, clearly.

And Springer slowly, carefully, unclenched his fists, venting hard and staring down at Prowl with great suspicion. "You _want_ me to hit you? No. I won't. I won't let you -- set me up like this!"

Prowl shook his head in frustration. So close, and yet so far. "No, Springer." He shoved the datapad at him again -- the first one. The one that, he was sure, Springer had read before -- and he'd never gotten that copy back, either. 

Springer stared down at the datapad and then slightly up, at Prowl's face. And then he burst out laughing.

Prowl frowned. "This isn't a _joke_."

"Prowl," Springer said, the laughter dying down just a little bit. "You could have just _asked_!" 

Prowl -- relaxed, fractionally. Finally! "There are certain requests that a commander is not permitted to make of his subordinate."

"Oh really?" Springer leaned over him, still not _touching_. "I think that memo might have gotten swapped with some of your pornography collection. Do tell me _all_ about them. In detail."

Prowl growled. "If you'd ever _read_ the memos all the way through, maybe you'd have found the answer." 

Springer glared down at him and then just shook his head. "I told you, I'm not playing your stupid games. Get on the desk, if you want it." 

"So you _did_ read them," Prowl purred. He shoved the datapads aside and arranged himself over the desk, aft up and hands braced against the far side. "You may proceed."

"That's more like it." Big, strong hands took hold of Prowl's aft, lifting him a bit and spreading him wider. Two broad fingers slid between his legs, seeking out the hot panels. 

Prowl groaned and pressed into the big hands, the touches so direct but oddly gentle. He held his panels closed for a few long moments, savoring the suspense. 

"Tell me you want this." Springer said. His fingers shifted away teasingly. 

Prowl growled in frustration. "Put those back." He pressed closer to Springer. Why wouldn't he just _take_?

Springer paused for a long moment, his hands resting lightly on Prowl's aft. "...Good enough, I suppose." His fingers slid back between Prowl's legs, pressing against the panels again, stroking the seams. 

Prowl said nothing at all. He simply opened to Springer's touch.

Springer's touch was still so gentle, big fingers caressing the valve entrance, sliding over the folds, spreading lubricants up to the tip of Prowl's retracted spike. 

"...Get on with it," Prowl growled, after about a minute of this. As far as Prowl was concerned, the foreplay was over.

Prowl felt Springer shrug behind him. "If you're sure." Two fingers spread his valve folds and a third slid inside, slow and gentle but thick enough to make Prowl gasp. 

"You're pretty tight," Springer observed, and Prowl felt the catch in his voice as he pressed closer, sliding the finger in deeper. 

"So they say," Prowl said, dryly, although his valve was anything but dry as he slid his hips backwards, taking Springer's finger almost but not quite to his ceiling node. 

Springer grabbed Prowl's hip with his other hand. "Do I need to hold you down?"

"...Yes." Prowl said, although the spike in his temperature and the increase in valve lubrication should have made his preference obvious. 

"See how easy that was?" Springer said, and he leaned closer, hands and body holding Prowl against the desk. "You should say 'yes' more often." 

Prowl didn't dignify that with a response, other than to press back against Springer's grip. It was satisfyingly firm. 

"Don't worry, after all that, I'm impatient too," Springer said conversationally, and Prowl _finally_ felt an entirely proportional spike rubbing against his aft. 

Against his aft, but not against his valve.

"Just tell me you want it," Springer said, leaning close, curling halfway around Prowl to try to look at his face, of all things. 

"Just put it in," Prowl counter-commanded.

"Okay," Springer said, and lifted Prowl's aft just a bit to press his spike against his valve entrance. "Oh, you _are_ tight," he sighed in appreciation as the spike slowly pressed inside. 

Prowl groaned and fought Springer's hold, trying to get more, wanting to feel the burn in his valve from being taken hard by a bigger mech, but willing to settle for being restrained by one.

"Oh yeah -- " Springer said, and Prowl moaned loudly as the spike slid deeper than the finger had, tip nestling against Prowl's ceiling node. And then he moaned again, realizing that he couldn't feel Springer's hips, that Springer hadn't bottomed out.

Springer didn't press any further, though, just grunted in pleasure as he pulled back and started slowly fragging his commander. Over his desk, just like in the datapad. "Oh yeah, you're hot like this. Feel so good." 

Prowl didn't respond, losing himself in the sensation, pinned against his own desk, valve stretched to the point of pain, a little more pressure against his ceiling node with at the top of every stroke, chest grinding against the desk with every thrust. 

His overload built quickly. As it arrived, he allowed himself to say, once more, "Yes!" as his valve tried to contract around Springer's giant spike.

He wondered, in the part of him that was always thinking, if it was the word or the valve that triggered Springer's release inside of him a moment later.


End file.
